To die well and happily, we must fulfil our obligations to God. Here I must confess I am somewhat troubled to answer how a man who is near death, whether he be in good health at the present moment or given up by his physician, shall satisfy this demand, if he has not already done so. The last, and usually the most useless, hours of one's life are hardly the time to give God his due. God's obligations are fulfilled in living not in dying, well. Our Lord compares the dealings of God with us to a man who hired workmen to labor in his vineyard; to another who gave certain talents to his servants which they were to improve; and, again, to a husbandman who sowed his seed expecting to reap a harvest from it in due time. These are very apt figures of the duties and the fruits of life. The heavenly reward will be bestowed upon him who labored at God's work in life. He shall enter into so much of the heavenly joy of his Lord as he has fitted himself for by the improvement of the talents which God gave him. God will reap just so much of a harvest as the seed of His divine grace has been cultivated and allowed to grow in the heart. Now we are sent to begin our work, to improve our talents, and His grace is sown in our hearts when life begins. God's obligations begin when we begin to live, not when we begin to die. Oh! this is a startling truth! What a fearful thought this must be to him who has never realized it as life went on, and only now begins to think about it when the terrors of the coming judgment are casting their shadows before, and darkening the last hours of his misspent life!
I hardly know what to say to that man to whom religion has never been a reality in life, who has shirked its duties, and deafened his conscience to its appeals, who thinks of it only when life is not worth thinking of; who makes use of it only to smooth his dying pillow, to bless his grave, and pray for him when he is gone. The thought that his life, the only life he has had or will have upon which God has such a heavy claim for his service, for the worship and love of his heart, upon his personal exertions and sacrifices for the cause of His holy faith—has simply been allowed to wear away, day after day and year after year, and that nothing has been done, must be a thought of misery and dismay, such as would overwhelm the mind of a merchant who, after making a long and, as he supposed, prosperous voyage across the ocean, finds, to his disappointment, that he has forgotten to bring either the money or the letters of credit wherewith to purchase his expected cargo.
I hardly know what to say to that man whose life has been little more than a mockery of the God whom he pretended to serve; whose principles and faith were indeed Christian, but whose practice and works have been heathen. He has been a Catholic—oh! yes, in name, but not in deed. It would be better to say of him that he was not a Protestant, nor a Jew, nor an infidel. That is all. That he is a Catholic seems to be a happy accident; for, to judge from the indifference he manifests in its practice, it is to be feared that, had circumstances made him anything else, the Catholic faith would be the last thing to which he would give a serious thought. When such are suddenly surprised with the message, "Put thy house in order, for thou shalt die, and not live," indeed it is hard to say how they are to prepare to answer to God for their life. Their memory brings up little else than despised warnings, grace trifled with, neglected sacraments, prayerless days, and desecrated Sundays; and I know not where they are to find the fruit that God comes seeking of them.
You see, my brethren, that the first condition of being able to prepare for a happy death is to have lived well. But you ask—Is one who begins late in life to serve God, who knows that he has but a short time to do something for Him, to give up his case as hopeless, and despair of fulfilling this great obligation? Must he say I have, alas! made no life-preparation of this solemn account, and it is too late now? Far be it from me to say that; but this I know: he must begin now all the more earnestly, and do what he can with all the greater effort, as the time is the shorter. O my dear brethren! that these late workmen in God's service, and the dying, would understand this! Such an one falls sick. He is attacked with a disease which will soon run its course. He sends for a priest. He makes his confession as well as he can—he would have made a better one if he had been well, for he is not in a condition to remember the events of so many years; he is sorry for his neglect and his sins; sorry for all the comforts of religion that he has lost; but, tell me, is he sorry for what God has lost by his careless life? Does he express one regret that God has not only not had His own, but that He has also been dishonored by his bad life; that the Church of the faith he professes has been a loser by him; that he, by his inconsistent conduct, has been a stumbling-block and a rock of scandal to the unbeliever and the scoffer? No, this is the last thing that troubles him. What is one to do? Plainly this: Religion ought now to be his all-absorbing thought. Every moment should be employed with a holy jealousy in prayer, lest God might be forgotten again. One, and only one, desire ought to fill his heart, and that is a desire to love God as perfectly as he may before he die. He should frequently call to mind that comforting assurance which our blessed Lord gave to the penitent Magdalen: "Many sins are forgiven her, because she hath loved much." It is not the time for excuses, as so many seem to think it to be, but a time of humble abandonment to the will and the mercy of God. It is a painful sight to witness the contrary; to see the sick and the dying full of complaints, resisting the will of God, and praying for a few more years of a miserable life. If it were for the purpose of living in the love of God, and repairing the bitter past, it would be well. But no, their hearts are breaking to think they are forced to part with the world that they have loved too well. But oh! how sweet it is to see a soul, at the close of life, striving to detach itself from the world, and, as it were, reaching forward to throw itself into the embraces of its God. True, it may have been idle for many long years, and it may have come only at the eleventh hour, but that hour, at least, is well spent. These are they of whom the Master will say: "I will give to these last even as to the first." [Footnote 103] Such may also say, in the language of the wise man: "I awaked last of all, and as one that gathereth after the grape-gatherers. In the blessing of God I also have hoped; and as one that gathereth grapes, have I filled the wine-press." [Footnote 104]
[Footnote 103: St. Matt. xx. 14.]
[Footnote 104: Ecclesiasticus xxxiii. 16, 17.]
[USCCB: Sirach xxxiii. 16, 17.]
To die well and happily, we must, in the second place, fulfil our obligations to our neighbor. Scarcely a day of our life passes in which we do not find that our neighbor has had somewhat against us. Debts accumulate, disputes arise, the incautious word is spoken, the scandal is given, the character of our neighbor suffers from our folly or our spite, reconciliation is not made, forgiveness is neither asked nor given, friends are alienated, the sun goes down upon our wrath, and on the morrow we must die. Who is there who is able to say, when he comes to die—I owe no man anything; my debts are all paid; I never wronged any one to whom I did not make full restitution; I never lost a friend but I found him again; I have not an enemy on the face of the earth? Happy is that man, for he will die a happy death. But how many there are who find themselves at the hour of death as they have always been, both unwilling and unable to pay their just debts! How many leave behind them an unsettled inheritance to their relatives, which becomes an inheritance of discord, law-suits, enmities, and deadly feuds! How often men die, and show no fear to go to God with unclean hands—hands stained by the contact of ill-gotten goods and stolen money! How many die unreconciled with their neighbor, and with no earnest wish to be so! How lightly the wrongs of a lifetime weigh upon their conscience! How many die and make no restitution of all the detraction and the calumny of which they have been guilty, and go to their grave amid the secret jeers and curses of their neighbors! "Blessed is he that is defended from a wicked tongue," says the Holy Scripture, "that hath not passed into the wrath thereof, and that hath not drawn the yoke thereof, and hath not been bound in its bands. For its yoke is a yoke of iron: and its bands are bands of brass. The death thereof is a most evil death: and hell is preferable to it." [Footnote 105]
[Footnote 105: Ecclus. xxviii. 23, 24.]
[USCCB: Sirach xxviii. 19-21.]
Do you wish to escape such a lamentable end? Would you die the death of the just, leaving your name in benediction, your loss sincerely mourned, and your soul defended with prayers at the bar of judgment? Deal with thy neighbor now whilst thou art in the way with him. "Put thy house in order," and especially when you come to die. Let no worldly consideration, no thought of pride, hinder you from a perfect reconciliation with all men—a full payment of every debt—a free forgiveness for every wrong you have suffered. The few moments that remain to you, you will need to pray for God's forgiveness for your own sins. Remember the Lord's words: "For with what judgment you have judged, you shall be judged; and with what measure you have measured, it shall be measured to you again." [Footnote 106]
[Footnote 106: St. Matt. vii. 2.]